Paraguay: A forgotten country?
Paraguay, I was surprised to learn, is nothing like Uruguay.
Getting into Uruguay is a breeze, and the country actively advertises in Buenos Aires to attract tourists. The Paraguayans, on the other hand, seem to do everything they can to deter visitors. For example, before you can drive into the country, you have to get every pane of glass of your car marked with your license plate number by means of an acid wash. Cost: 20 pesos. Time: 30 minutes. But that is just the beginning if you are a US visitor because — surprise — US citizens need visas to get over the border.
Well, that isn’t exactly true. You can walk or drive across the border without any problems if you don’t bother to identify yourself. But if you try to do the right thing and stop at the immigrations house, you’re in trouble. Getting a visa means driving back to Clorinda, a small town on the Argentine side, and dealing with the Paraguayan consulate. This is not an easy matter. For one thing, they accept only US dollars in payment. If you don’t have any US dollars, you can try to change money with somebody at the usual street corner — they were all out of dollars the day I tried this. Or you can withdraw from the city’s one functioning ATM — this would have required a wait of over an hour in the hot sun, and the consulate was scheduled to close in 45 minutes. The 15-year-old employee attending customers (several other staffers sat at desks behind him, doing who-knows-what) said he was willing to do us the courtesy of accepting Argentine pesos, but only at an awful exchange rate. We begged and pleaded, which was much to his enjoyment but to no avail. In the end I paid over 50 dollars for a supposedly 45-dollar visa stamp.
Later, as we looked at the visa, we discovered that the stamp was only worth 35 dollars. And they had given me a visa for only two days. Luckily, I had no desire to stay longer.
Asuncion, Paraguay’s capital city, made me feel like I had finally come to the Latin America of stereotypes. Houses like castles towered all along a central avenue. A few blocks away we passed the “mercado quatro” - a tented mass of merchants’ counters linked by a network of narrow, dark alleyways that are apparently never cleaned. They say people are born and die in there without ever emerging.
I was struck by the sight of uniformed firefighters begging for money in the streets. In New York City, I said, you get arrested for asking for money in the street; in Paraguay it’s state policy. But my Argentine companions assured me it happens in their country, too. And I guess volunteer firefighters in the US have pancake breakfasts. But a volunteer fire department in the capital city? What happens to they property tax income from all those pretty houses? Maybe it goes to fund the Paraguayan Navy. (Paraguay has no seashore, but does have a Navy. So does Bolivia, apparently.)
Getting into Uruguay is a breeze, and the country actively advertises in Buenos Aires to attract tourists. The Paraguayans, on the other hand, seem to do everything they can to deter visitors. For example, before you can drive into the country, you have to get every pane of glass of your car marked with your license plate number by means of an acid wash. Cost: 20 pesos. Time: 30 minutes. But that is just the beginning if you are a US visitor because — surprise — US citizens need visas to get over the border.
Well, that isn’t exactly true. You can walk or drive across the border without any problems if you don’t bother to identify yourself. But if you try to do the right thing and stop at the immigrations house, you’re in trouble. Getting a visa means driving back to Clorinda, a small town on the Argentine side, and dealing with the Paraguayan consulate. This is not an easy matter. For one thing, they accept only US dollars in payment. If you don’t have any US dollars, you can try to change money with somebody at the usual street corner — they were all out of dollars the day I tried this. Or you can withdraw from the city’s one functioning ATM — this would have required a wait of over an hour in the hot sun, and the consulate was scheduled to close in 45 minutes. The 15-year-old employee attending customers (several other staffers sat at desks behind him, doing who-knows-what) said he was willing to do us the courtesy of accepting Argentine pesos, but only at an awful exchange rate. We begged and pleaded, which was much to his enjoyment but to no avail. In the end I paid over 50 dollars for a supposedly 45-dollar visa stamp.
Later, as we looked at the visa, we discovered that the stamp was only worth 35 dollars. And they had given me a visa for only two days. Luckily, I had no desire to stay longer.
Asuncion, Paraguay’s capital city, made me feel like I had finally come to the Latin America of stereotypes. Houses like castles towered all along a central avenue. A few blocks away we passed the “mercado quatro” - a tented mass of merchants’ counters linked by a network of narrow, dark alleyways that are apparently never cleaned. They say people are born and die in there without ever emerging.
I was struck by the sight of uniformed firefighters begging for money in the streets. In New York City, I said, you get arrested for asking for money in the street; in Paraguay it’s state policy. But my Argentine companions assured me it happens in their country, too. And I guess volunteer firefighters in the US have pancake breakfasts. But a volunteer fire department in the capital city? What happens to they property tax income from all those pretty houses? Maybe it goes to fund the Paraguayan Navy. (Paraguay has no seashore, but does have a Navy. So does Bolivia, apparently.)
previously there was resolutions kept
afterwards you have Barry Schwartz clears it all up
I never commented here before but i'm glad you guys are back. I always enjoyed your weblog! [submitted on 01 Feb 04]
See ya,
Matias [submitted on 13 Feb 04]
LISMOSNA UNOS DIAS AL AÑO, PERO TAMBIEN HACEN OTRASCOSAS [submitted on 15 Mar 07]